


Worthless To One

by cowpoke69



Series: Worthless To One, Priceless To Two [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 5x11, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, POV Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowpoke69/pseuds/cowpoke69
Summary: A fix-it one-shot for the hug scene in 5x11 because I really needed to get this out of my system.





	Worthless To One

Oswald listens as Edward breaks into a speech. Voice deeper than he has ever witnessed, his handsome features twisted into what seems to be pure determination. An ounce of rage lingering on his tone. And no matter what he says, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself; Edward’s discourse indicates that he is – undoubtedly – bound to this city.

Gotham. Place of his birth. Silent observer of his sufferings and trials. His ups and downs. Stone and concrete marked by his doings. Edward goes on, and Oswald’s mind is buzzing with a million thoughts. Some of them pleasant, others still too raw. Untamed. And while Edward is talking about himself, Oswald, in his selfishness, thinks about them. Their achievements. Their failures. Their history.

Sitting on the sophisticated leather armchair, hands firmly grasping onto it in order to ground himself, Oswald cannot help but to think about all of the actions that led them here; to this very moment. And he wonders – with a heart full of something so moving that he cannot bring himself to ignore it – if there was ever a time when he didn’t feel this way towards the man standing before him.

 

 

 

From the first time he ever met him, at the GCPD, extremely annoyed by the way Edward was following him, like a shadow. 

The same shadow who nursed him back to health when his life had been teetering over the edge, finding him in those dark and terrifying woods, far from his beloved Gotham.

When he had lost it in the face of truth, only a few days later, holding a knife to Edward’s throat. A jittery mess, trying as hard as he could not to slice Edward’s flesh right there and then. Because it would have been a terrible loss, really. 

_“A man with nothing that he loves, is a man than cannot be bargained. A man that cannot be betrayed. A man who answers to no one, but himself. And that is the man that I see before me. A free man.”_

And on that day, the shadow had finally turned into someone—and something, that he was still too unsecure to address. Edward had loosened all of the strings holding him back. One by one. A master at work.

But it was nothing, nothing really – compared to what Oswald felt when Edward had looked him in the eyes, on that couch, throat still sore and covered in blue, purple and yellowish marks left by Butch’s filthy hands. When he had made him a promise. One that he had later proceeded to break into a thousand pieces.

_“I hope you know, Oswald. I would do anything for you.”_

The pure bliss he had felt. Running through his veins. Taking over his heart, his mind, his soul. The sudden urge to hold Edward and never let go. Not ever.

And then, the intense pain, destroying everything in its wake, when he had seen him with Isabella. When he had seen him stray further away from him. Far from his heart. Far from his reach. His one true love.

_“I don’t love you.”_

The gunshot following these words had just been a formality. Edward grabbing him by the collar of his vest, while he was at a loss for words, gasping for air, trying to make sense of what was happening. And then, Edward letting go of him. Abandoning him to the cold, deep waters of the river.

They had truly done everything they could to hurt each other. They had both tried, over the past few years, to ignore what was still very much alive between the two of them. Oswald had been dead. Edward as well. But this feeling could not be more vibrant.

And Oswald had tried, as hard as he could, to let go of it. To bury it underneath false emotions, false ambitions. But as Edward’s voice kept filling the room, he could not restrain it from swimming towards the surface. Asking for dominance, asking for a chance to be.

He had lost an eye tonight. For him. And only a fool would deny the reason that pushed him to do so.

 

 

 

“I’ve shown this city who I truly am, once before. And I will do it again. They will bow to The Riddler and they won’t get up until I permit them to,” Edward declares.

 _The Riddler._ Oswald snaps out of it. Propelled to stand up by something stronger than his consciousness. Edward faces his reflection in the mirror, slowly coming down from the high caused by his outburst. It is Oswald’s turn to grow restless. Frustration slowly but steadily rising inside of him.

“Yes. You’re right,” he agrees, voice a little unsteady, “Our accomplishments have been erased. Our brilliant minds underrated. If they had let me run this city the way I wanted to, it would not be in ruins now. I have the men, the money, the guns—”

Edward cuts him, turning his head towards him as fast as the words that come out of his mouth.

“Gordon took them. Why? Because he still sees you as Fish Mooney’s umbrella boy and he always will.”

And once again, Oswald agrees. 

“Yes.”

Because no matter how unpleasant Edward makes it sound; it is the plain truth. He has been and still is underestimated. And no matter what he does, James Gordon still sees him as the criminal that he is. Nothing else. Not that he really minds, to be fair. This is who he is, after all. This is what he has fought for. 

They both have. Edward makes sure to remind him of that with his next declaration. Overly dramatic, but still very much relevant to him. To them. 

“I only came back to help him save this city so that I could take it for myself.”

Oswald lets go of the remaining strings. The ones that have been restraining him for too long. The ones that Edward has left behind, untouched. And before he can even think about what he is about to say, the words leave his lips in a hurry, his desires desperate to blossom.

“We would be stronger together, no one could stop us,” his mouth stretches into a smile as he whispers the last words, finally free of the invisible shackles that have been holding him back all these years.

Begging Edward to love him back would be in vain. He knows it. The last time he did say “I love you” to him, Edward was about to unleash a vat full of acid on him. Edward agreeing to be his partner in crime is the best outcome he could hope for.

“Yeah, perhaps.” Edward wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, in one smooth motion.

Oswald watches in awe, as Edward readjusts his suit jacket. Unable to process the situation for a few seconds. Thousands of butterflies wildly batting their wings inside of his stomach. An idea growing in the back of his mind. Edward is still looking at his reflection, and Oswald slowly understands that it is not out of vanity, but rather because of something, he himself, had for too long desired to ignore.

The duality of the man who stands in his presence.

And in this moment; he wants it all. His demons, his failures, his faults and his weaknesses. Oswald does not mind it. Not one bit. Not when his hands have grown numb and his lips are shaking. 

“Let’s make a pact,” he says, “Here and now. We will take what we want, from who we want and we will suffer no fools.”

Edward faces him, again, and his answer comes out entirely too fast and too good to be true. Oswald wonders if he actually thought about it or if he has just decided to speak without even allowing his brilliant mind to have a say on that decision.

“Together. Shall we shake on that?” Edward extends a gloved hand towards him.

And Oswald would be damned if he did not at least try to negotiate for a hug. Edward patiently waits for him to say something, and Oswald tries to compose himself. Funny how the sharp blade of fate always seems to turn against him. Oswald Cobblepot; begging for a hug from a man he had once sworn he would kill.

“Please, we’re—”  


It goes from soft, to desperate in an instant. And Oswald does not have the time to register what has happened until his back is being shoved against one of the tall bookshelves decorating the room. He whimpers, a mix of surprise and pain escaping his lips.

Oswald tilts his head up, eyes lingering for a while on the green fabric of Ed’s suit. He had never noticed how shiny it was. Not until now. Edward is so close to him that every time he inhales, it is his scent that he breathes in.

And when he finally looks at his face, he wonders if it is Edward, still, or if the man whose hand is now cupping the uninjured part of his face is totally alien to him. But there is no time for questions, because Edward is the one doing the talking, and Oswald hears his voice, but struggles to understand the meaning of his words.

“It would be unsanitary. Totally unsanitary.”

Edward is muttering those words to himself. And it is clear to Oswald that he has not realized that he has been doing so for at least a full minute. Oswald reaches up to where Edward’s hand is staying on the side of his face, limbs still shaking from the shock. The parts of his fingers that are not covered by his gloves softly brush against the leather on the back of Edward’s hand.

“What do you mean, Ed? What’s unsanitary?”

Edward seems to focus when he hears his voice, eyes lowering to Oswald’s instead of where they had been looking at some books, right above his head. Edward lowers his hand, letting it rest by his side. And Oswald feels like he has lost all the treasures and fortunes of this world in a matter of seconds.

“Ed, what’s going on?” he begs now. Inevitably.

Edward does the exact same thing he did a few minutes earlier. The tip of his tongue darts out of his mouth in order to wet his lips. Oswald follows it, blatantly, without even trying to restrain himself. And it feels so good to let go.

When Edward speaks again, his tone is impossibly low. 

“It would be unsanitary to kiss you. Half of your face is covered in blood, Oswald.”

Oswald lets out a soft “ _Oh_ ”. 

A single syllable that carries the weight of the entire world. His entire world. Walls come crashing down, all around him. All around them. And Oswald is not sure if it is the aftermath of the battle or if it is what Edward has just said. 

Nothing makes sense anymore.

And when he grabs Edward by the tie, and pulls on it just enough for their foreheads to rest against each other; nothing matters anymore. Edward’s lips hover against his for a fleeting moment. And when they press against Oswald’s, it feels like home.

Edward grabs onto one of the shelves, leather squeaking against the wooden surface. Oswald closes his eyes, barely returning the kiss. Afraid to ruin it all. Afraid to destroy the fragility of this moment.

But when Edward’s other hand finds its way to his neck, leather-clad fingers brushing against his bare skin without any ill intent, the truth hits him. Nothing, not even themselves, could destroy this moment.

The thought alone emboldens him. So much that when he bites Edward’s lower lip and draws a faint moan out of him, a chill runs down his spine; electrifying. When Edward breaks the kiss, Oswald chases his lips, missing them already.

“Does this count as a way to seal our pact?” 

It takes Oswald a few seconds to snap out of his trance. He only nods, unable to voice his thoughts. And it is enough for Edward. It will do for now. When Edward kisses him, again, this time with less restraint, Oswald understands what it feels like to be loved in return. 

At last.

Everything has, indeed, led them to this very moment.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @cowpoke69.


End file.
